


In Times Of Peace

by katling



Series: Dragon Age Alternative Pairing Week [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Post-Trespasser, mentions of lyrium withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7122967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mahanon returns home and is surprised - and yet not surprised - to find where home is. Also Cullen is an idiot and Samson is a mother-hen.</p>
<p>Written for Day 7 of the Dragon Age Alternative Pairing Appreciation Week - Happy Ever After</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Times Of Peace

Mahanon rode along the long sweeping path that led to the sprawling farmstead in the distance. He felt a sense of homecoming here that should surprise him but somehow didn’t. He _should_ feel more at home in Wycome where his clan had become fully accepted members of the community, combining Dalish and human cultures in ways that would be sure to have many outsiders screaming in outrage. Mahanon always just laughed and told the story of finding the little shrine created by the Ameridan, that combined worship of the Maker with that of the Creators. More than one person, both elf and human, had embraced the idea in Wycome, creating their own little revolution. He _hadn’t_ told anyone other than his Keeper about the truth of Solas and the Creators though. She had agreed that was knowledge that would need to be very carefully handled.

No, this place, this sprawling farmstead in Ferelden, was home not because of where it was or what it was but because of who he would find there. When Cullen had voiced the idea of a place where Templars could get off lyrium or where they could find sanctuary to live out their remaining days in comfort, Mahanon had been enthusiastic. Especially when Cullen had said he wanted to look after what remained of the Red Templars. An exchange of letters with King Alistair, followed by a personal visit to Denerim by both Cullen and Mahanon, had led to a very amusing reunion between the two former Templars and the donation by the King of Ferelden of a Crown property that was otherwise going to waste.

Mahanon waved to a couple of the men working in a nearby field and received a cheerful greeting in response. Cullen’s plan had worked wonderfully, helped by the aid that he had received from Cassandra and Leliana… or rather, Divine Victoria. Even Empress Celene had donated money and resources when Cullen had made it clear that the place was open to _all_ Templars, not just Fereldan ones.

As he continued to ride, a large Mabari came bursting out of the bushes beside the path and started gambolling around beside his horse. Thankfully, his horse was well used to such antics and well trained to _not_ throw his rider, back from when Mahanon had been getting by with just the one hand before Dagna presented him with the most astonishing prosthetic he’d ever seen, and simply snorted at the dog.

“Well, hello, Cailan.”

The dog’s name had come as an accident during Cullen and Alistair’s reunion. Alistair had jokingly called the dog Cailan, saying their personalities were very much alike, and the Mabari had latched onto the name, much to Cullen’s chagrin. Not that Fereldans found the idea of naming a Mabari hound after their late king to be offensive. In fact, everyone had been roundly approving from what Mahanon had seen. Fereldans and their dogs, he’d never seen anything like it.

“So, has Cullen been looking after himself?”

Cailan whined then whuffed approvingly and looked so smugly satisfied that Mahanon had to laugh.

“All your doing, eh?”

The Mabari puffed out his chest and gave a happy bark then he made that peculiar little whine-bark combination that he only did for one person.

“Samson helped then?”

Cailan grumbled and huffed and Mahanon laughed again. The Mabari had never been quite sure whether he approved of Samson or not. The former leader of the Red Templars was a changed man these days. Withdrawal from the red lyrium, especially given the epic amounts Samson had been consuming, had been nothing short of hellish. Mahanon hadn’t always been sure that Samson wanted to succeed but _Cullen_ had wanted him to succeed and Samson had a strange soft spot for Cullen that he refused to explain. Mahanon was, however, fairly sure that Samson had knuckled down and endured the withdrawal not for his own sake but for Cullen’s and had truly expected the attempt to kill him.

But he’d survived and as he’d slowly recovered, Mahanon began to see the man that Cullen had spoken of from Kirkwall. The rough around the edges but decent man who had slipped love letters from a mage to their lover, who had woken up a traumatised young man from his nightmares and talked about anything and nothing until he could sleep again, who had been prepared to speak out against Meredith and the Chantry even if it cost him almost everything. But now that he was past the worst of the withdrawal, Samson had essentially become Cullen’s second in command and a friendship had grown between the two men that hadn’t been possible before.

And the man in question was now striding towards him from across the field. Mahanon slowed his horse to allow Samson to catch up.

“So this is what got the mangy mutt’s attention,” the former Templar grumbled, giving Mahanon a nod of greeting as he fell into step beside the former Inquisitor.

Cailan gave a mock-growl and Mahanon laughed. “Yes, it is. How are things around here, Samson?”

Samson shrugged. “About the same as always except himself has a cold.”

Mahanon frowned. “It’s not the right time of the year for that, is it?”

“Not really.” Samson snorted and looked fondly amused. “One of the lads got into a lather on a bad night and took it in his head to go running out into the rain then the idiot tripped and fell into the pond. Cullen went after him and got soaked to the skin. Of course the damn fool put everyone else’s health ahead of his own so now he’s got a cold for his troubles.” He paused and snorted. “It’s just a cold. Nothing serious. He’s just being grouchy about it.”

“You’re mother-henning him, aren’t you?” Mahanon asked with open amusement.

Samson looked offended. “Me? Perish the thought.”

Mahanon laughed. He was. Samson absolutely was mother-henning Cullen to the point of ridiculousness. He’d seen him do it before and he suspected that in some ways, when he looked at Cullen, Samson always saw the traumatised twenty year old who had arrived in Kirkwall and ended up rooming with him for a time.

“How goes the wolf hunt?” Samson asked, deftly changing the subject.

Mahanon snickered at the term Samson always used. The former Templar been let in on the secret after he’d passed through the worst of the withdrawal and rather staunchly taken up a position as Cullen’s right hand. It saved a lot of trouble having to explain Mahanon’s frequent absences and even Cullen’s occasional absence as well.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied then he grimaced. “I think we’re going to have to relocate though. Every sign points to Solas moving north and settling there for whatever reason.”

“How far north?”

“Tevinter.”

Samson was silent for a moment as he contemplated that. “I can look after the place. I know how to run it just as well as Cullen does. I may not have his tender touch but there are a couple of lads who could do with a bit more responsibility who can handle the touchy-feely stuff.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions there,” Mahanon said with a raised eyebrow.

Samson made a rude noise. “He’s not going to let you go off gallivanting around when he can actually accompany you this time. And if he didn’t go with you, I’d give him a boot up his arse and make him.” He fixed one gimlet eye on Mahanon. “And don’t even try to say that you don’t want him there with you.”

Mahanon smiled. “Alright, I won’t. And you’re right. I do want him with me.”

“We’ll sort it out.” Samson made a contemplative sound. “Huh. So this is what it feels like to not be an arse. It’s a bit of alright.”

Mahanon could help but laugh. “Yeah, it’s not too bad.”

Samson grinned briefly at him then gave the horse a swat on the rump that spurred it into a canter.

“Go see your man,” he bellowed. “And keep the stubborn bugger in bed, will you? He’s driving me up the wall!”

Mahanon waved a hand briefly in acknowledgement and then took hold of the reins. This wasn’t quite what he’d expected for his life back when he was a mere archer for Clan Lavellan but he couldn’t say that he disliked it.


End file.
